


The Beautiful Cordelia

by rosastairs



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, First Kisses, Fluff, Pining, Soft Girlfriends, lucelia, lucie probably has a hair kink this is canon, they’re both oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosastairs/pseuds/rosastairs
Summary: the story of how Lucie gave Cordelia the thousand page book that she wrote about her





	The Beautiful Cordelia

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first time writing lucelia, so I hope you enjoyed! (these two deserve more love and I’m happy to provide that sweet sweet sapphic content)

Lucie Herondale chewed on the tip of her pen thoughtfully. She was resting on the soft cushions of her room’s window seat, her legs tucked under her in a way that would leave her wincing when she rose. Below her she could see the slate gray stones of the London Institute’s courtyard, dark and slick with early morning dew. Clouds hung low over the rooftops and fog crept between the leaning buildings of the city.

Lucie had always harbored a deep affection for London. She found a certain romance in the twisting streets, the carriage traffic peppered with the odd automobile. Soon everyone would be driving automobiles, it was just after the turn of the century and London had the atmosphere of a city changing from the old to the new. Lucie found she much preferred the new.

Lucie longed to write about London. About Hyde Park’s shimmering pond, and the tourists from America and France that gossiped merrily beneath the Tower of London. She longed to write about the lovely girls in their floral patterned dresses and carefully pinned hair.

She longed to write about the less lovely aspects of the city as well. About the garbage pickers in the Thames, wading into the muck. About the children in the slums with their thin, tired, dirty faces. About the dens in the East End where the people had eyes like shattered glass. About the demons, curled in the shadows, waiting for the lonely wretched souls to give in to teeth and claws.

Lucie shook herself from her reverie. She had risen early to add the last touches to her novel. Though she supposed that wouldn’t be the full end of it. Perhaps she would write a second volume. She did always seem to have more to write about Cordelia.

 _Cordelia._ Cordelia who had hunted demons by Lucie’s side for years. Who had stood across from Lucie in the interlocking golden circles and recited the parabatai oath in her clear unwavering voice. Lucie could see her in her mind’s eye. Cordelia a little younger, wisps of her dark red hair escaping their plait, her dark eyes a little wide and full of wonder as Lucie traced the parabatai rune over her heart.

It was supremely unfair, Lucie had thought after, that you weren’t supposed to fall in love with your parabatai. What did they expect? How could they tie you to someone who was the other half of your soul and then tell you it was forbidden by law to romantically love them?

 _I never literally swore not to love her._ Lucie told herself. _I just happen to have the damned luck of my love being illegal._ No harm would come of it. Cordelia didn’t—couldn’t feel the same way.

So why was she going to do what she was planning? Why couldn’t she be content with loving from afar, never expecting anything in return? Was she holding out the desperate hope that maybe she wasn’t alone in her wanting?

Lucie sighed and brushed a lock of her hair back from where it had drifted across her cheek. Her room was chilly, her four poster bed in sleep rumpled disarray. Her desk was covered in a whirlwind of books, pens, and papers marked with her hurried untidy scrawl. Lucie’s mother was always telling her that she needed to stay a bit more organized, although Lucie didn’t think her mother was one to talk when she herself had a room full of books stacked in precarious piles.

The volume in Lucie’s hands was a thousand pages thick. Its text handwritten on to crisp clean white sheets of paper. The rough draft had been written on everything from crumbling yellowed parchment to newspaper clippings. That draft was crammed into the bottom drawer of Lucie’s desk where she hoped nobody would ever find it.

She’d taken the pages of her final draft to a small shop that would bind your book for a reasonable price. Lucie had hardly believed it when she’d visited the shop the next day to pick up the newly bound copy, its cover stamped with the outline of a daisy in gold leaf. When she skimmed the pages she could see the lines and lines of her carefully neat handwriting. The book was a masterpiece.

A masterpiece in the sense that it contained all of the joy and wonder and hopelessly hopeful love Lucie felt for Cordelia. Love was written into every line, every word was steeped in love. The book was Lucie’s heart, and she was about to offer it to Cordelia on a silver platter, to be destroyed or cherished.

Lucie yawned. She was tired again, her bed beckoning invitingly. Her loose nightgown was soft around her as she stretched. She made to set her book down and abruptly stopped. One last touch. Lucie hesitated and then carefully inked a dedication on to the blank inner cover.

 _I dedicate this to she who inspires this work_  
_To she who inspires all my work_  
_To she who is gilded in gold and the fire of heaven_

_I dedicate this to Cordelia Carstairs_

-

It was late morning when Lucie again rose to face the day. Nerves were bundled up inside her, winding tighter and tighter as her anticipation grew. She laced her day dress with care and carefully braided her hair up. She wanted to look her absolute best when she gave her book to Cordelia.

Not that it really mattered what she looked like, Cordelia had seen her covered head to toe in mud and demon ichor. But nevertheless, Lucie wanted to put in an effort today.

She noticed that she had an ink stain on her cheek and tried to scrub it away in vain. It looked almost like the shadow of a bruise. She sighed and laid her book on her desk, her fingers relinquishing their grip haltingly. She would bequeath it to Cordelia later, when the time was opportune, or whenever her nerves decided to calm down.

She glanced at her pale, worried face in the mirror. “You have got this.” She told herself, although her eyes in the mirror did not look convinced.

Lucie made her way down to the dining room. Her swift steps were muffled by the thick carpet. She kept getting distracted by the flickers of the torches and the images woven into the wall tapestries. She shook her head as if to clear cobwebs. _Concentrate._

The ceiling of the dining room was painted in vibrant colors, runes of protection cleverly concealed in the imagery. Lucie bustled into the room and sat in one of the fancy high backed chairs, lounging in what was most definitely an unladylike fashion, but Lucie was too hungry to care.

“Pass the toast will you.” She told Thomas, who was sitting farther down. His shirtsleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up so that she could see the stark black runes that inked his forearms as he passed her the platter of toast without blinking.

It was a Sunday so almost everyone who lived in the institute had arrived late to breakfast. Matthew, who was a notoriously early riser was already gone, probably out on the streets somewhere.

Lucie finished her first piece of toast and piled her plate high with bacon and eggs. She poured herself a cup of tea and was just taking a sip when Cordelia entered the room, walking lightly. Cordelia was tall, much taller than Lucie, and she moved with the grace of a dancer or a bird in flight. Lucie choked on her sip of tea and began coughing violently. James, sitting next to her, shot her a concerned look and patted her hard on the back.

Cordelia yawned, she was most certainly not a morning person. She sat down across from Lucie, a loose dark red curl swinging forward as she leaned for the egg platter. Lucie quickly recovered from choking to reach forward and nudge the platter into Cordelia’s hands.

“Thanks.” Cordelia said, smiling at Lucie. Her smile made the sun pale in comparison.

A small eruption went up at the end of the table. Lucie and Cordelia both turned in time to see Christopher disappear behind a small cloud of smoke. Lucie giggled despite herself.

James groaned. “Why does any adult think it’s a good idea to have alcohol at breakfast, and how could you possibly make an explosion with nothing but sherry Christopher?”

Christopher beamed. “It’s not that hard. At least there’s no prolonged fire this time!”

Cordelia exchanged an amused glance with Lucie. Butterflies began doing a complicated waltz in Lucie’s stomach. There had been a time when private glances with Cordelia didn’t make her skin heat, but Lucie could barely remember that time.

_When she looks at me I can see the entire world. As it is, as it could be. The possibilities are endless in her eyes. Oh her eyes. I could swim through the depths of her lovely dark eyes. And in them I would catch each fleck of the gold in her irises and rearrange them into the constellation of our entwined souls._

-

“What’s the agenda today?” Cordelia asked.

They were in the library, shelves and shelves of books towering up around them. Lucie ran her fingers lightly over the spines, marveling at the many stories people chose to tell.

“Demon identification.” Lucie grumbled, tossing her hair back and gazing petulantly at Cordelia.

Cordelia laughed, her laugh was always small, as if she were self conscious of the joyful sound. “Alright then, which demon?” She looked suspiciously excited to be researching demons in dusty shadowhunter manuscripts.

“I can’t _believe_ you’re looking forward to this!” Lucie loved reading fictitious material, but she dreaded the moment anyone mentioned good old fashioned research and studying.

Cordelia grinned sheepishly. “Which demon?”

They rounded a corner of shelves. Underneath a high paned window was a table, worn with carved initials and knife marks. Lucie plopped down in one of the chairs and put her booted feet up on the table. “The demon that’s been taking people at the docks.”

Cordelia brightened. “Oh! I have notes for that one in my room. Hold on I’ll go fetch them.” She turned, her purple skirts swishing. As she was hurrying back down the rows of books she called over her shoulder, “You can start pulling down classification guides!”

Lucie smiled fondly despite herself. Leave it to Cordelia to compile notes on random demons they discovered while in the field. Lucie knew Cordelia had listed all of their mystery demon’s major traits, which would make this identifying process go much quicker.

She stood and searched the shelves nearest to her. Thankfully, whoever had been there previously had evidently also been identifying a demon. Lucie found two large classification guides in no time and stacked them on the table. Looking out of the window beside her which overlooked the gabled roof of the sanctuary.

Lucie’s pulse stuttered nervously. When Cordelia got back from her room Lucie could tell her how she felt. She could ask Cordelia to come to her room later so that she could give her her book. The thought of her book in Cordelia’s thin, gentle hands made Lucie’s heart race. Why oh why were feelings so complicated?

“Lucie?” Cordelia called, coming around the corner with her notebook pressed to her chest. Lucie was momentarily distracted from her ensuing panic by the graceful curve of Cordelia’s neck and the way locks of hair artfully brushed against the smooth brown skin of Cordelia’s shoulders.

Lucie longed to wind her hands through Cordelia’s hair. To undo it from the carefully pinned braids. To watch it tumble down in a river the color of rubies and hot coals.

Cordelia now also had her golden sword Cortana dangling loosely in one hand. Lucie could just make out the inscription on the blade. She remembered when the sword had chosen Cordelia, how furious and hurt Alastair had been.

Lucie sat, and opened the thick, heavy cover of one of the guides. Cordelia sat beside her, leaning Cortana against the windowsill.

“Does our demon have tentacles?” Lucie asked, referring to a pencilled illustration.

Cordelia flicked open her notebook. “No—well maybe. I don’t think it has that many tentacles. Maybe one or two.”

“Not this one then.”

“Most certainly not.”

Lucie smiled despite herself. Cordelia had the inexplicable ability to brighten any menial task.

 _I once asked her what kind of demon she would classify me as. With a smile that could melt ice she told me I was “an inquisitive and vivacious demon.” That was the first moment when I realized that I would much rather like to be_ her _inquisitive and vivacious demon._

_By the Angel that does sound sloppy. But aren’t all emotions sloppy in some regard?_

-

“Lace me up will you?” Cordelia asked.

They were in Cordelia’s room. Lucie was fiddling with the buttons on one of her shoes. They had just finished a few hours in the training room and were changing out of their gear. Lucie averted her eyes as Cordelia stripped, her mouth dry.

“Hmm?” Lucie stood and went to stand behind Cordelia. They were in front of Cordelia’s mirror and Lucie attempted to make steady eye contact with her friend as she laced up the back of Cordelia’s dress.

Cordelia looked nervous. She was biting her lip and fiddling with a lock of her hair. Lucie wanted to reach out and brush her fingers across her mouth, smoothing the worry away. Instead she focused on the back of Cordelia’s dress.

“Have you ever loved anyone?” Cordelia blurted suddenly.

Lucie froze, her hands tightening involuntary on the dress’s laces. Did Cordelia know? Lucie’s mind went to her book lying on her desk in her room. Had Cordelia somehow read it? Carefully, Lucie schooled her features to indifference.

“I think so.” She was suddenly aware that Cordelia had a mole on her left shoulder, a perfectly kissable imperfection. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.”

Lucie giggled and nudged Cordelia with her elbow. She finished lacing up Cordelia’s bodice and stepped away quickly, her skin warm and tingling. “There you are.”

Cordelia spun, tilting her head playfully. Watching her, Lucie was suddenly filled with an impulsive desire. Her mind went again to her book on her desk, waiting to be read. “Wait here.” She told Cordelia. “I have to fetch something.”

She dashed across the hall to her room, flinging open the heavy door and snatching the book up from where she’d left it. The volume felt thick and heavy in her hands. Her heart was pounding hard.

Cordelia looked mildly puzzled when Lucie reentered. She was sitting on her bed primly, her hands folded in her lap. Lucie’s heart ached inside her. She really hoped she wasn’t about to butcher their friendship.

Before she could think twice Lucie hurriedly handed the book to Cordelia. Cordelia gave a small gasp and lifted the book up curiously.

“What’s this?” She asked. Lucie’s mind went blank. Of all the questions she’d anticipated she hadn’t thought of that one.

“Ah.” Lucie swallowed. “Well you see, erm. I mean… what I’ve been trying to tell you. Um—I wrote a book!” That hadn’t been what she was going for, but she’d go with it.

Cordelia smiled fondly up at her. “Really? That’s wonderful! Oh do tell Lucie, what’s it about?” Her fingers tapped the cover affectionately. “Rogue princes? A cursed forest?” She made to open the book.

Lucie practically dived on top of her to slam the book shut. Cordelia squeaked in surprise. “What on earth Lucie?”

“Don’t open it!” Lucie said. Her face burned in shame. “I shall die of embarrassment if you read it in front of me!”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at her. “You’re never shy with your writing. What’s this about?”

Lucie, usually so eloquent with words, fumbled for a believable alibi. Cordelia grew impatient and pushed her off with arms strong from years of swordplay. Before Lucie could protest again, Cordelia flipped open the book defiantly and read the words on the first page.

Lucie’s stomach bottomed out. She was suddenly aware of how sweaty her palms were. She watched as Cordelia’s invested expression turned into one of shock.

“Oh.” Cordelia whispered, the word full of an emotion Lucie couldn’t decipher.

It was somehow worse than anger or pity would have been. Cordelia’s eyes were a little wide, her hand gripped the book tightly.

“I told you that you wouldn’t want to read it in front of me.” Lucie mumbled. She could feel tears welling behind her eyes, threatening to spill over her lashes.

Cordelia didn’t say anything. She looked too shocked to move.

Without another word, Lucie turned and ran from the room, tears already starting to stream down her cheeks.

_She leaves golden thunder in her wake. Thunder that trails after her sword and carves marks on me in the name of heaven._

-

Cordelia wasn’t at dinner. Lucie ate in silence, miserable and exhausted. Matthew tried to strike up a conversation once before determining her a lost cause.

She walked back to her room gloomily, trailing her hand along one cold stone wall of the corridor. Her feet made scuffing sounds as she dragged them. A demon could have run at her screeching and she would not have noticed.

Lucie stopped in her tracks when she saw who was waiting outside of her room. Cordelia was pacing the floor in front of the carved wooden door.

Cordelia’s hair was disheveled, as if she had been running her fingers through it, and she was clutching Lucie’s book tightly in her hands. When she saw Lucie she paused, arrested in mid step.

“Hullo.” She said quietly.

“Hullo.” Lucie echoed. She couldn’t believe Cordelia still wanted to talk to her after what she’d confessed.

They stood facing each other in uncomfortable silence. Finally Cordelia sighed and gripped Lucie’s wrist, dragging her back into the room that Lucie had fled crying a few hours before.

Once inside Lucie started talking all at once. “Oh Cordelia, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, giving that to you.”

Cordelia shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. Please, it’s beautiful writing, it really is.” She was still holding Lucie’s wrist lightly, the contact of skin made Lucie’s nerves jump.

“Oh don’t say that. I know you’re trying to spare me by being kind. But it’s alright if you hated it.” She babbled.

A crease appeared between Cordelia’s dark brows. “I loved it.”

Lucie’s heart skittered. She gaped open mouthed at Cordelia, who ran an exasperated hand through her messy hair.

“Wh—What?” Lucie stammered. Hope blossomed incredulously inside her as Cordelia’s eyes softened.

“My mother told me Herondales were hopeless at love, but I’ve never believed her until now.” Cordelia said, setting her book down on the bed. Lucie could see the sun going down through the window behind Cordelia, red and gold light lengthened the shadows in the room.

Feeling much bolder now, Lucie tilted her head up at her parabatai flirtatiously. “Well my mother told me that Herondales love with their entire soul.”

Cordelia groaned, slightly amused, and drew Lucie to her by her wrist. They were chest to chest. Lucie could feel Cordelia’s pulse. She could see the dark freckles on Cordelia’s collarbones and could pick out each individual eyelash, each individual fleck of gold in Cordelia’s dark brown eyes.

And then Cordelia was kissing her. Their lips bumped awkwardly together. Lucie had never kissed anyone before and as far as she knew, neither had Cordelia. It was light kiss, warm and soft and gentle. Cordelia smelled slightly of the henna she used to dye her hair. Lucie rested her hands loosely on Cordelia’s shoulders, drawing her closer.

Cordelia had to bend slightly to meet her lips so Lucie stretched up on tiptoe, relishing the small noise of surprise Cordelia made when Lucie moved. Her lips parted and heat flooded Lucie’s senses. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to find the right words to describe their kiss. Words did not exist for such kisses, new and uncertain as they were.

Cordelia pulled away to cup Lucie’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” Her voice was breathless. Some of her fingers threaded into Lucie’s hair lovingly.

“Nothing is more beautiful than you.”

Cordelia laughed and her breath ghosted across Lucie’s cheek. She looked slightly dazed, as if she were living in a dream.

Lucie laced her fingers behind Cordelia’s neck. “I’m serious! We could be walking through a gallery of portraits done by the best artists in the world, and I would only have eyes for you, because you—Cordelia Carstairs—are a work of art.”

Cordelia kissed her again. This kiss was a little more lingering, more frantic. Cordelia’s fingers slid down Lucie’s waist, tangling in the folds of her skirt.

When they broke apart Lucie pressed their foreheads together, their lips only a breath away from each other. She had a good view of Cordelia’s lips, red and swollen from kissing.

The sun had now set and Lucie could just make out Cordelia in the dim light. She felt as if she were brimming with happiness. Overflowing with happiness.

“What’s the title of the book?” Cordelia asked quietly.

Lucie pondered for a long moment before smiling and pressing another swift kiss to Cordelia’s mouth.

“The Beautiful Cordelia.”

**Author's Note:**

> I?? Love?? Them??? Honestly they’re a god tier ship 
> 
>  
> 
> comment and kudos are appreciated! I love hearing feedback/constructive criticism, thank you for reading! <3


End file.
